Steve nodded, trying not to think too much about the way Bucky's hair fell in long strands, tickling the side of his face. He wondered what it might be like to feel that; to have long enough hair to sweep in front of his face. But not Bucky's hair, no. It was just a curious thing– he told himself, as he made his way down the stairs.
(well, idk. u don't have to if you don't want to– you seem pretty poluar on the forums~~ i don't want to bother you. BUT the film– called Maurice I cant function youll like it if youve seen call me by your name:)
Bucky sighed softly, and kept following Steve through the hallways. He shifted a little, and raked his fingers through his hair again, the hairband coming off into his hand. He glanced at Steve.
(We can if you want to, I don't mind! As for popular…I mean I guess so? I just join and make a lot of RPs lol)
Steve tried to hide his smile as he held the door open for Bucky. It reminded him of all the times they were sitting together, silent, or busy with something else, and occasionally, Steve would just glance at him. Only for a moment, he remembered, but just to see him as he was; candid and lost in thought. They stepped out into the morning fray; people crowding the sidewalks and taxi drivers yelling in their think Ney York accents.
(well in that case~ sure, that would be nice :)
Bucky walked out the door, letting out a breath and wondering if he would be recognized. If someone would know who and what he was, and he would be arrested or hunted or hurt for it. He squared his shoulders, tucking the hairband in his pocket.
(Alright cool!)
Steve walked beside Bucky in silence, almost forgetting the circumstances of him being there. It really felt like things were– okay, and that they were simply two friends walking to get breakfast. A worn-down and near collapsing building caught his eye, and prompted a double-take. "Oh," Steve said, pointing, "That was Monty's. Monty's Pub. Where your hat got stuck on the chandelier and I had to climb on your shoulders to get it." He laughed, thinking of the warm memory blurred by loud laughter and a slight drunkenness.
Bucky followed Steve's gaze. He cocked his head for a moment, and nodded slightly. "Oh. I see." He replied slowly. "I don't… remember that." He put his hands in his pockets.
"It's okay." Steve shrugged, trying to remind himself that this would be a common phrase for the days to come. He'll remember, one day. Soon, they were across the street from Lucy's diner. "C'mon, let's cross." Steve motioned to the busy street, cars coming and going, reminding him of the day Bucky flipped that van and dragged a few lines though the road.
Bucky nodded, and followed Steve down the road. He sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair again, remaining silent as they crossed the street. He didn't know what to say again. He really didn't, because he didn't know what Steve expected from him.
The warm air of the diner rushed past Steve as he entered with bucky, a small bell ringing for their arrival. Rosie, the waitress Steve knew best, was working her shift. She stopped and turned, waving at Steve and mouthing that she'd be right over. He smiled at the grainy Christmas music playing from the corner of the room– a jukebox. Not one from that far back, but jukebox nonetheless. He smiled, so many things had changed now that Bucky was back. Everywhere Steve looked, he saw– or thought of a memory connected.
Bucky looked around the diner, crossing his arms uncomfortably. He knew better than to take his jacket off. His arm was too obvious for that. He didn't know for certain, but he knew that his arm would be the easiest identifier of who and what he was. It needed to be kept hidden.
Steve sat down into the nearest booth and took his hat off, hanging it on a wooden peg on the side of the chair. He chuckled, listening to the lyrics of the music, still strange. "The music nowadays," He shook his head, smiling, "It's really funny to listen to– all the voices are so high…and you can't dance to so much of it."
Bucky sat down across from him, cocking his head to listen for a moment. He shrugged slightly. "It isn't…terrible, though." he replied slowly, looking at Steve for a moment, his eyebrows knitted together just a little bit. He put his hands on the table.
Steve laughed lightly, looking down and meeting the shiny and colourful breakfast menu, slightly bent at the corners. "Yeah, I guess. Some of Its okay." He nodded, remembering the little notebook he kept around for film or music recommendations. "I listened to a bit of a band called 'Nirvana,' the other day. Someone recommended it to me. It's kind of rough, and angry, but I think it's growing on me. They call that punk, I think." Steve chuckled.
Bucky chuckled a little bit. A memory flashed across his mind. Himself, calling Steve a "little punk". He frowned a little. "I suppose that's fitting, then, that you like it?" he replied slowly, already hating how his voice had turned the comment into a question.
Steve laughed, taking it as a casual joke "Yeah, yeah," He shrugged, "I guess it does fit me, but I've got a whole list to go through, so you just watch as I label myself as a hundred other things before the week ends." Sam, Steve thought, He probably has no idea. Which, could be a good thing, he knew, but realized that it was going to be a little harder to explain and tell him, much more complicated then 'on your left.'
(arrghh I'm watching "Iron Man" right now and…I just about started crying multiple times…because NOOO TONYYY)
Bucky nodded a little. He sighed softly, and raked his hand through his hair. That hadn't quite been what he meant, but he didn't want to try to correct Steve or himself. That would just leave to trouble, most likely.
(oh thats whack– dont cry noo, i found this pirating website and i watched cap america the first avgr, and the winter soldier and lots more for free ~)
Steve sighed, glancing at the menu, "Anyway, what are you feeling on here? For breakfast." He studied the reflective page, turning it over and scanning through for anything that'd catch his eye.
(yeah… i won't but i wanna ooh nice!)
Bucky looked at the menu after a moment. "Oh. Right. Uhm…" he shrugged a little, and looked through the menu. "Eggs, maybe." he replied, concentrating on the menu. "What…what are you getting?"
Steve nodded, staring at the menu, "Anything, with bacon." He marvelled, remembering how long it'd been since he had it. "It's been years– even before the war. Wow." Steve continued reading the extensive menu, which seemed to go on forever. "Coffee, too, I guess." Rosie, the waitress, skipped over to them, wishing them a good morning, and if they were ready to order.
(Rosie should totally ask if they're dating or a couple or something)
Bucky nodded a little at Steve. He looked up as Rosie came over, muscles coiling and ready for a fight, before he realized that it was only the waitress, and he relaxed a little bit again. He looked at Steve. Were they ready to order? He didn't know.
Rosie smiled warmly at Steve, her blonde hair in a ponytail bouncing as she made small talk. "And Steve…" She looked at him sideways, smiling, "I didn't know you were seeing someone," Rosie whispered, eyes flickering back to Bucky, and nodded, giving him a thumbs up. Steve's smile dissolved and laughed nervously. That was a joke, right? No? Oh-
"Wh-No, I, what? Ha- I," He stuttered, shaking his head lightly as if he could shake his blush away, and hoping Bucky hadn't heard. "-These pancakes…" Steve said, pointing to a random picture on the menu.
Bucky blinked at the nod and thumbs up, cocking his head slightly. He hadn't heard Rosie's comment, but was now wondering what exactly the blonde waitress had said. He looked down at his own menu, glancing at what Steve had picked out. He himself was getting eggs, he decided.
"Yes..pancakes," Steve decided, smiling at the giggling waitress. "Witch bacon, please." He added. Rosie nodded, scribbling down his order, "Coffee?" She prompted, "Sure," Steve answered.
"And you?" Rosie asked Bucky, smiling, "What could I get you?"
Bucky looked up at her. "Oh. I'll have just some eggs." he replied, running a hand through his hair. "And…some coffee too, I guess." he studied her for a long moment, unsure what else he was supposed to say. After all, he had lost all his memories. All he had now was…the swing dancing, and that one handler.
